


Pitch Heart and Jagged Fang

by NervousAsexual



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Curses, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erandur is Dad, Hircine - Freeform, Nonbinary Character, Werewolves, i will make it to 100k words published this year or die in the attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: The dragonborn keeps everyone at a distance. Erandur learns why.
Relationships: Dragonborn & Erandur
Kudos: 24





	Pitch Heart and Jagged Fang

The dragonborn's hand was scraped and raw when Erandur entered their little cabin outside of Dawnstar, as if they had been scratching at the iron band.

"Developed an allergy?" Erandur asked them.

They didn't move from the pile of skins before the fire. Their eyes were fixed on nothing at all. "Please go away."

"I'm afraid it can't wait. I have a message from the jarl."

The dragonborn shook their head.

"Are you sick? Surely Skald will understand..."

"Yes." The dragonborn's voice was faint. "I'm sick. You have to leave."

"If it please you." Erandur crossed to lay the letter unopened on the mantle. He paused for a moment--the heat was so soothing after the arctic temperatures outside--and in that moment he heard a low, groaning growl. He turned quickly, reaching for his mace and expecting to find some half-starved wolf at the door. All he found was the dragonborn.

Their eyes were wide and stricken with panic. "Please," they begged in a hoarse strained voice. "Please, please leave."

"What is..." Before he could finish the dragonborn groaned and curled sharply over themself. Erandur ran to their side. "Are you hurt? Are you ill?"

"Just go away," they screamed. Tears poured from their eyes.

"Child, I can offer you the blessing of Mara. Whatever is happening to you, she... I... can help."

He reached out to take their hand but they shoved him roughly away. "You think I haven't prayed to her? You think I haven't prayed to every pantheon I know?" They gave a laugh that was half a sob. "Not even Vaermina will help me now."

"Then perhaps there is something I can..."

The dragonborn cried out and their nails left harsh red marks in their palms as they curled tighter still. This time Erandur took their hands firmly in his.

"Why can't you just let me be alone?" they sobbed.

"I won't allow you to hurt yourself, not if there may be something I can do to help." He squeezed their hands in his own to prove his commitment to this. Something sharp stabbed into his palm. Though they tried to pull away he held their wrist firmly and his gaze fell upon the iron band with its wolf's head molded into it. "This is..."

The dragonborn wrenched their hands free. When they looked at him, scowl twisting their features, their teeth seemed painfully sharp.

"..a curse," he finished softly.

"Werewolf," they snapped. "Are you happy? I'm a gods damned werewolf."

He had heard stories long ago of the Ring of Hircine. There had been books in the library that spoken of rings to control werewolf transformations, but nothing about this suggested they had any kind of control at all.

"I offered to help the werewolf in Falkreath and I shouldn't have. I should have left him to rot in the prison but I didn't and now I can't go out in public without..." Their voice tore into another growl.

They really were too kind for Skyrim. Erandur closed his eyes and gave a brief prayer for their soul.

"So why don't you go already," they growl.

"I won't leave you like this."

"Go find the... the Silver Hand. Or are you not too good to kill me yourself?" Their arms seemed to stretch before his very eyes. "Isn't that what Mara wants you to do to werewolves?"

Erandur knelt down beside them and took their hand again. "Death is reserved for those who choose their own way. You have done nothing wrong."

They seemed to cry. Out of the corner of their eye they watched him.

"It doesn't take a priest to see that you've fallen victim to a curse. You are more deserving of mercy than ever."

The dragonborn scoffed, or perhaps it was simply a growl.

"I will stay with you until you are yourself again, and then we will find a way to undo this curse."

Tears spilled down their cheeks. Coarse dark hair sprouted from their skin.

"It's alright." Erandur lowered his voice and stroked a hand over their head. "You are going to be fine. I'm here. I'm with you."

Bones and skin and sinew stretched with a terrible snapping sound. One final sob tore from the dragonborn's throat.

"I will protect you as long as you need."

The werewolf that came into existence before him howled and tore at its own skin. Erandur stayed at its side and cast a quick healing spell on the wounds that formed. It looked to him sadly but stopped struggling.

"There you go. You're okay." Erandur wrapped his arms around the beast and stroked its thick dark fur. "I've got you. I've got you."


End file.
